


Chamomile & Honey

by MissBarbieAnne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coughing, F/M, Fever, Flu, Sickfic, Sneezing, cough, sneeze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBarbieAnne/pseuds/MissBarbieAnne
Summary: Kudos and Comments are encouraged and appreciated! ♥





	Chamomile & Honey

**Loghan’s POV**

The tea kettle on the stove started to whistle, the sound loud and high-pitched to alert me that the water inside was ready. I quickly removed it from the burner and poured the boiling water over the chamomile tea bag sitting in the mug. After adding two spoonful of honey, I carefully carried the steaming mug over to the couch.

All nestled up in the pile of blankets, only Benson’s fever-flushed face was showing. His glazed eyes darted over to me when I sat down beside him and gently reached over to pull the blankets down.

“Honey, I made you some tea,” I whispered, keeping my voice low to try not to aggravate the headache raging between his eyes.

Benson grunted, pulling the blankets back over his mouth as he started to cough. I rubbed his back, flinching when he finished with a painful sneeze.

“Ow…” He moaned, flopping back against the couch.

“I know your throat hurts, but this will help,” I told him, pushing the tear toward him again. With shaking hands, his took it from me and tentatively brought it to his lips.

After a small sip, he let out a soft sigh and sank down against the cushions. “I don’t know how I caught the flu…” He sniffled, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I got my flu shot. This isn’t fair.”

“I know, babe,” I cooed, reaching over to push his damp hair back and away from his eyes. I let my palm linger on his forehead, trying to get a gauge on his fever. “You’re still really warm. I think it’s time for another dose of medicine.”

He groaned as I got up to get to fetch the Tylenol, and when I returned, he was curled up in the blankets again. The mug was sitting untouched on the coffee table.

“Benson…” I sighed, reaching down to tap the mound of blankets. “Scoot over.”

With another grunt, he shifted over and I sat down. Within seconds, he was repositioning himself with his head in my lap, pressing himself as close to my form as he could.

I measured out a dose of Tylenol and watched him swallow with a grimace.

“I’m freezing,” He whined, pulling the blankets tighter as he laid his head down again.

“It’s just the fever,” I ran my fingers through his hair, watching as his eyes began to get heavy. “Just try to sleep. I’ll stay right here.”

He nodded, then his eyes glazed over. I felt his muscles tighten and quickly reached over for the tissues just as he jolted forward.

“Et’ ** _etschu_**! **_Eh’ktchew_** _!_ ”

Benson had his hand over him nose, and I quickly handed him the tissues.

“Bless you, honey.”

He did his best to clean up the mess, using another tissue to wipe off his hand. He let out a thick sniffle, blowing his nose into the tissue as well, but by the amount of congestion in his sinuses, it did not do much to help.

“Thank you,,” He sniffed.

He laid his head back down, pressing his face into my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” He said, his words muffled and quiet; I had to strain to hear him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone gets sick, honey,” I carded my fingers through his brown locks, working out the knots and tangles caused by laying on the couch for two days.

“I know, but,” He lifted his head and sniffled, swiping at his nose again with his sleeve. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about me, Benson. I’ll be okay.”

“But—”

I put my fingers to his lips and gently pushed his head back into my lap. “Just relax and focus on getting better, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Defeated, he nodded, wrapping his arms around my middle and pressing his face into my shirt. I continued to work through his hair, listening as his breathing began to even out and his body relaxed against me.

Only when I was sure he was asleep did I attempt to clear my throat, rubbing at the outside. It had felt funny that morning but now, it was angry and sore. I let out a couple stray coughs, feeling the congestion beginning to settle in my chest. I picked up the mug from the coffee table, the tea still warm. I figured, since I was clearly catching his flu anyway, there was no problem with sharing germs at this point.

 

The next morning was rough. I woke up to the sound of Benson coughing, the sound deep and barking. Groggily, I sat up and rubbed his back, yawing into my fist. His fit soon tapered off and he rolled over, laying his head on my chest. His cheeks were flushed, and I rested my hand on his forehead. He jerked back.

“Your hands are freezing,” He whined.

“I’m sorry, babe,” I stuck my hands back under the covers. “I’ll go get the thermometer and some medicine. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for a reply, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, but when I stood, the room began to spin. I quickly reached out the steady myself on the wall, and saw Benson lift his head up.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “I’m fine. Just got up too fast.”

In reality, my whole body was screaming. My bones ached, and my skin felt like it was on fire. I knew my hands were cold because I was most likely running a low-grade temp, and the congestion in my chest had clearly settled in. I went into the bathroom before Benson could question me any further, closing the door and coughing into my elbow to quiet the sound. He was still really sick, and he did not need to be worrying about me.

I pulled down the thermometer and the medicine bottle. I put the probe in my ear to get a reading, just to know what I was dealing with. When it beeped, I pulled it out and let out a sigh of relief.

Only 100.4.

It was usually much worse. I took a quick dose of the cough syrup before bringing Benson his own dose and a dose of Tylenol for the fever.

He was just in the middle of a fit of sneezes when I entered, and I handed him the box of tissues from the nightstand. He took them gratefully, pressing them against his red rimmed nostrils.

As he was wiping his nose, I pressed the thermometer into his ear.

“102.4,” I read out loud, placing it on the nightstand and handing him the two capfuls of medicine. “Drink up.”

He groaned but took them obediently before handing them back.

“Will you make me some tea?” He croaked, cocooning himself back in the blankets. “Please?”

I could not help but smile, and despite my body demanding I lay right down beside him, I nodded.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

 

As the day went on, it became harder and harder to keep going. I was constantly running back and forth from room to room. Tea for Benson, and then a little later he wanted some toast (he hadn’t even for over twenty-four hours, so I was happy to oblige). After that, he decided he wanted to go out to the couch, so I helped him walk into the living room and plop onto the cushions. Then he needed me to fetch an extra blanket and pillow before he finally fell back to sleep.

With him sleeping, I started to clean up a bit. I collected the soiled tissues from the bedroom and living room and tossed them in the garbage. I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and did dishes before returning to the bedroom and changing the sheets, since the old ones were tainted with sweat and snot.

Everything took ten times longer than usual, and I had to stop every few minutes to cough and try to catch my breath. My throat was flaming and raw, and all I wanted to do was lay down with Benson and sip some tea while watching a movie.

However, as soon as I was ready to put the kettle on, Benson woke up miserable. Tears sprung to my eyes in frustration, but I had to be there for him. He had always been there for me.

He was bent forward, one hand pressed to his mouth as another coughing fit took hold. His shoulders shook, and I could tell from the look on his face it was painful. I rubbed small circles into his back, holding his other hand and letting him squeeze it until the fit finally passed.

Exhausted, I gently helped him lay back down, covering him back up with the blanket. Pressing my lips to his forehead, I noticed his fever was back up again.

I retrieved another dose of cough syrup and Tylenol, plus the mug of tea I was preparing for myself. I placed it in his hands, finally sitting down on the couch and letting him lean against me.

“Thank you,” Benson nestled his head into the crook of my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “You take such good care of me.”

I leaned my head against his, feeling my eyes try to droop shut. “You do the same for me, love.”

He smiled, his first real smile in days. “You do it better.”

_Impossible_.

“Just try to get some more rest,” I said, and he shifted, using my arm as a pillow and pulling his legs onto the couch.

He fell asleep, but now I was trapped. With a soft sigh, I reached for the remote and scrolled through Netflix, not even getting to the New Arrivals list before I was falling asleep as well.

 

When I woke up later that evening, I almost thought I was still dreaming. Everything had a shiny quality to it, and the voices felt far away. It took a few minutes before I was able to hone in on the single voice, and then I realized it was Benson’s.

“Loghan?” He asked, his voice slightly strained. His face came into focus, a worried expression plastered there.

“What?” I groaned, still sleepy and wanting to doze off again.

“Wake up,” He gently shook my shoulder and my eyes snapped open. I pushed myself into a sitting position, holding my head in my hands when my vision began to swim.

“Hold on… dizzy…”

Before I knew what was going on, Benson’s palm was on my forehead.

“Shit…” I heard him say under his breath.

“What?” I slowly lifted my head and watched as he started to move off the couch.

“You caught my flu,” Benson stated, standing up and then staggering only a few feet before he had to hold onto the walk for assistance.

“No, I’m fine,” I reached for his hand, pulling him back to the couch. “You need to rest. I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

As if in protest, my words caught in my throat and my chest constricted. A flurry of coughs escaped my parted lips and I lifted my elbow to catch them. My chest ached from the force of them, and they grated up my already raw throat.

Benson sat down beside me, his hand running up and down my back. A chill raced down my spine at his touch.

“I got you sick,” He whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” I choked out, the coughing beginning to taper down.

He shook his head, slowly standing up again. He was more careful this time, moving slower to stave off the dizziness. “I’m going to get the thermometer. And the medicine.”

I just nodded, pulling the blanket up and over my shoulders as the chills began to get worse.

When he returned, he took turns checking our temperatures.

He checked mine first. 102.8.

Then he checked his. 101.2.

“Mine is lower than yours, so that means I get to take care of you.”

I tried to object, just another coughing fit stole my words from my mouth.

Benson shook his head and pointed to the couch. “Stay here. I’m going to take some tea and toast and you are going to rest.”

I wanted to object, but the thought of snuggling up on the couch with a hot mug of tea sounded too good to pass up. In the end, I gave in and wrapped myself in one of the blankets, leaving the other one for Benson.

He returned fifteen minutes later with two steaming mugs and four slices of toast. After setting them down, he collapsed next to me and drew the blanket over his legs.

“Who knew how exhausting making tea could be?” He sighed, reaching for his mug and leaning back again the pillow.

I reached for my own, resting against his shoulder and taking a sip. “All I want to do is sleep…” I admitted, stifling a yawn.

“I can’t believe you were doing all that stuff for me, and you were feeling sick as well… why?”

“Because I love you,” I said, simple and true. “I want you to get better.”

“But now you’re sick too…”

“Yes, but now we can cuddle up and be miserable together.”

Benson’s lips pulled up into the smile. He grabbed my mug and his own and placed them on the coffee table before pulling me into his lap. We laid back on the couch, my head laid on his chest, legs tangled up under the mess of blankets.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are encouraged and appreciated! ♥


End file.
